


Ring

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 09:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: "My my, Inquisitor, youdohave naughty thoughts, don't you?"





	Ring

**Author's Note:**

> **Big bold reminder that I don't own Dragon Age or any of its content and characters, I just play in the sandbox BioWare created.**
> 
> Look at me, casually ignoring I wanted to do fictober for FFXV and Lucifer only, and that I am _very much behind_ on every prompt lolololol

"You realise the general populace believes me to be a... _corrupting_ influence on you, yes?"

_Why _he decides to broach such a subject when they have a few peaceful moments to themselves, he'll never know, but then he is rather adept at ruining a mood when left to his own devices. All the pesky silence needs filled one way or another, and even Mahanon's stamina has its limits, so of course he lets his mouth run away from him. Sheep bleet and he prattles - such is the way of the world.

He gets a hum in answer, low and amused and just _shy _of the delicious sound he can coax from his lover if he sets his hands to weary feet and ankles and works them _just _right with heat in his fingers and oil on his palms. A quick glance up the lean lines of him finds Mahanon propped up on an elbow, head tipped as though too heavy for his neck, dark hair a snarled mess swept over his shoulder as he blinks in the afternoon sun, sleepy and sated and utterly _adorable_.

"You think I care what the general populace thinks?"

"You should! I hear it's quite the boon to be in their good graces."

"How boring. I much prefer the idea of you having your wicked way with me. _Corrupt away_." Tempting though it may be, they're both too tired for that. Arms like jelly as he levers up on them, crawls so he might sprawl over Mahanon's chest instead and layer kisses upon the vulnerable stretch of his throat, nuzzle instead when even that is too much effort.

"_Tevinter scoundrel caught with Inquisitor's legs over his shoulders, pants around his ankles._ It almost has a nice ring to it."

"Pretty sure the pants in question are a _do not disturb sign_ on the banister."

"They are not."

"Yes'm." A casual thump against his shoulder - he's not the only one with sluggish limbs and bones like lead - and he follows the direction Mahanon points. Sure enough, there they are, dangling by the staircase, a mud-spattered warning against venturing further into the Inquisitor's lair. _Well then_. He could have sworn he only flicked them aside. Apparently not.

"Sounds like a nice scandal, though."

"Hm?"

"My legs over your shoulders. In the Herald's Rest, perhaps?"

"My my, Inquisitor, you _do _have naughty thoughts, don't you?"


End file.
